The Unquiet Dead, Novelisation
by Josman
Summary: Christmas Eve in Victorian Cardiff. And mysterious ghostly figures are rising to haunt the living.
1. Mrs Peace's Ghost

**Author's notes: I imagine this episode would have been a Christmas special, had the BBC known there were going to be any. By pure chance, I can now publish it at the correct time of year.**

**Disclaimer: As I did not own Doctor Who last time I uploaded a story. It goes without saying that I do not own it now.**

**The Unquiet Dead**

**Chapter 1: Mrs Peace's Ghost **

Mrs Peace was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of her memorial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Mr Redpath signed it: and Redpath's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Poor Mrs Peace was as dead as a door-nail.

It had been a small memorial. Mrs Peace had few living relatives. But she was well loved by them. Her grandson was the last to leave. He'd been largely raised by her after smallpox and the Crimea had claimed his parents. He was, therefore, far more affected than most.

"Sneed and companies offer their deepest condolences, sir, at this most trying hour." Said Mr Sneed, the undertaker.

"Grandma had a good innings," Mr Sneed." Redpath sighed. "She was so full of life. It's just hard to believe that she's gone."

"Not gone sir. Merely sleeping. You'll meet her again someday."

This comforted Redpath slightly. "May I have a moment alone."

"Certainly sir." Said Sneed, strolling out.

Redpath stood with his hands on the lip of the open coffin, with his head bowed, trying to come to terms with the fact that she was never going to move anywhere again.

As he closed his eyes in silent prayer, an unseen mass of gas began seeping from one of the lamps. The gas trailed around the room, vortexing and rippling to cope with currents and obstructions. Finally, it found the corpse's mouth and poured itself in.

Redpath looked at her face, and saw her eyes flying open. Except that they weren't her eyes. They were pearly white, with tiny pupils. This wasn't his grandmother staring at him. Before he had time to respond, her arm flew up and her hand clamped around his neck in an incredibly stiff grip.

Sneed returned to the room, just in time to see Redpath drop dead from strangulation. "Oh, not again." He groaned. He snatched a block of wood that stood by the door and clubbed Mrs Peace with it to make her lie down once more. " Gwyneth!" He roared. "Get down here quick! We've got another one!" He grabbed the lid and tried to wrestle in into position, but Peace grabbed at the sides and swung it into his chest, winding him. Before he had time to recover, she stood up from her coffin and staggered from the room.

Pulling himself up from the floor, Sneed just had time to see the deceased rocking her head back and screaming. A quantity of blue gas emitting from her mouth as she did so. With that, she disappeared round the corner and marched out into the street.

* * *

The floor of the TARDIS pitched and rolled as it hurtled through the vortex.

"I said hold that lever down!" The Doctor shouted at his companion as he operated some controls round the far side of the console..

"I am holding it!" Rose replied.

"Then try holding them both down!" He felt the TARDIS stabilise as she did so. "That's better. Now, you've been to the future. Let's have a look at the past. How does 1860 sound?"

"What happened in 1860?"

"Dunno. Let's find out, shall we?"

* * *

Sneed paced the hallways of the house frustrated. Finally he found his servant girl, Gwyneth, by the back door.

"And where have you been child? I was shouting."

"In the stables." She said. "Breaking the ice for Sampson."

"Then get back in there and bridle him. We've got bigger problems. The stiffs are getting restless again. Mr Redpath's grandmother, she's on her feet and roaming about out there in the street."

"Mr Sneed, for shame. How many more times? Its ungodly."

"Don't look at me like its my fault. Anyway, we need to find her. She was 86. She can't have got far."

"What about Mr Redpath? Did you deal with him?"

"No." He said solemnly. "She did."

"That's awful sir. I know this is not my place, and please forgive me for talking out of turn, but this is getting beyond us now. Something terrible is happening. We need to get help."

"And we will, child, as soon as that old woman is back here and safely locked up. Now stop prevaricating. Get the hearse ready. We're going body snatching."

* * *

"I did it. Give the man a medal!" Said The Doctor, bringing the TARDIS in to land. "Earth, Naples, 24th of December, 1860."

"That's so weird." Said Rose. "Christmas 1860. Only happens once, then its finished. It'll never happen again. Except for you. You can go back and see days that are dead and gone. 100,000 sunsets ago. No wonder you never stay still."

"Not a bad life." Grinned The Doctor.

"Better with two." She smiled. "Come on then." She hurried towards the door, only for The Doctor to stop her.

"And where are you going?" He said.

"1860."

"What, dressed like that?"

Rose looked down at herself. She was still wearing the purple hoodie and jeans she'd stepped into the TARDIS in. Truth be told, they were starting to smell.

"There's a wardrobe down there." The Doctor said, pointing to the interior door. "First left. second right. Under the stairs. Past the bins. Fifth door on your left. Hurry up!"

* * *

Sneed drove the hearse through the snow covered streets. They'd tried following the old woman's footprints but they'd quickly disappeared in the sheer mass of prints from the people and horses who'd walked through the streets since last it had snowed.

"She's vanished into the ether sir, where could she be?." Bemoaned Gwyneth.

"You tell me girl." Sneed suggested in a hushed tone.

"What do you mean sir?"

"You know full well."

Gwyneth went pale. "Sir I can't!"

"Use the sight. Find out where she is!"

"It's not right sir." She pleaded.

"Find the old lady. Or you're dismissed. Look inside girl. Look deep. Where is she?"

Gwyneth winced and closed her eyes. A moment later, she opened them again, though now they had an unfocused look about them. "She's lost." She said calmly. "And so alone. There's so many strange things in her head."

"But where?"

"She was excited. About tonight. She was going to see him."

"Who?"

"The great man. The great writer. Performing tonight."

Glancing on a poster on a nearby wall, Mr Sneed suddenly knew exactly where their runaway body would be.

* * *

Charles sat in his dressing room, weary from travelling, weary from the constant demand for readings. He looked up as a stagehand came into his room.

"Mr Dickens, sir." Said the stagehand. "This is your call." The man noticed that Charles was rubbing his temples and became concerned. "Everything alright sir?"

"What?" Said Charles. "Oh, fine, fine. It's just starting to get to me. Christmas eve. Not the best time to be alone."

"No-one with you sir?" Said the man. "No lady wife out front?"

"No. Not this time."

The man got a cheeky grin. "Well you can have mine if you like!"

Charles smiled. "I'd better not." He played along. "I've been, somewhat less than attentive with family matters. Don't want to be causing more trouble than I can handle. I don't think I can cope much longer with all of this."

"You speak as if it's all over, sir?"

"No. It'll never be over. I'm always in demand." He nodded to a poster on the wall, which announced that he'd be making a live reading tonight. "Every year, the same show. Like a ghost, I am doomed to repeat myself for all eternity."

"If that's the case, you could make some new stuff?"

"I don't think I have it in me anymore. There's only so many ideas a man can have. I'm old now. Perhaps I've seen all there is to see." He sighed and had some water to build his strength. "Still, the limelight beckons once more."

* * *

The TARDIS wardrobe was larger than the department store Rose had once worked in. A part of her mind wondered if someone had redeveloped part of Narnia to fit this all in.

The men's clothes were arranged higgledy-piggledy, it was just like The Doctor to pay little attention to neatness, but the women's clothes were much neater. Each row filled with clothes from a different planet, arranged in chronological order.

Rose wandered down the Earth aisle, which began with styles she'd seen the guests on Platform 1 wearing and varied as she wandered back chronologically. From clothing types similar to those she wore, to sparkly cat suits and strange pvc suits shirts with fins.

She passed the 20th century clothes, noting that they were nicer than anything she had at home, and finally got to the Victorian dresses. Here she picked one in her size, along with some earrings. She also found a book of Victorian hair styles and sat in a mirror sorting it out.

Finally, she was ready. She returned to the console room to find The Doctor having pulled up one of the floor panels to work on equipment under the grating. She cleared her throat loudly to get his attention, and his eyes abruptly went wide.

"Wow." He said. "You look beautiful... Considering."

"Considering what?"

"That you're human. Anyway, c'mon. Let's explore."

Rose looked him over. "Aren't you gonna' change?"

"I've changed my jumper."

A thought occurred to her. "Do you ever change outfits?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I've got plenty of spares, so it's usually clean. When you have a good look why change it?" He'd climbed back onto the grating now and replaced the cover. "Let's go."

"No no." Said Rose. "You've led the way out enough times. Now it's my turn."

A cold breeze hit her as she pushed open the door and she briefly wished she'd brought a coat. It was a beautiful snowy night outside. She took a step out and felt the snow crunch underfoot. Once more, she marvelled at the fact that she was physically in the past, at a point which up till then had existed for her only in books.

The Doctor closed the doors behind her and took her arm, together, they walked round the corner into the main road. If Rose had had her camera, she could have made a Christmas card out of what she saw here. It was the typical Victorian Christmas scene, with horse drawn carriages rolling through the snow. Choirs out singing in the gas-lit streets and crowds dashing from shop to shop, preparing for Christmas day.

The Doctor, meanwhile, had found someone who'd finished the newspaper and took a look at it himself. "I went a bit wrong," he said, "this isn't 1860, its 1869."

But Rose was too entranced by the scenes around her. "I don't care."

"And this isn't Naples."

"I don't care."

"It's Cardiff."

Rose's face fell.

* * *

Charles read to the packed theatre. He paused and punctuated where it felt appropriate, putting as much emotion into his reading as possible, "_Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also a fact, that Scrooge had seen it, night and morning, during his whole residence in that place; also that Scrooge had as little of what is called fancy about him as any man in the city of London, even including - which is a bold word - the corporation, aldermen, and livery. Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one thought on Marley, since his last mention of his seven years' dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change - not a knocker, but Marley's face._

_Marley's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look. It looked..._" He faltered as he spotted something alarming in the crowd. "It looked... My God. It looked... like that!"

Everyone turned in the direction he was staring, to see the body that had once belonged to Mrs Peace sat in the centre of a row. But that wasn't the alarming thing. The creature that had inhabited her body was growing unstable and a blue, glowing gas was seeping from every orifice in her head. "What phantasmagoria is this?" Dickens growled.

Peace's head turned back and the body let out a screaming sound as the spirit poured from her mouth and spun around the room. The rest of the audience also began screaming and rushed for the exits more desperately than if the place had been set on fire.

Walking outside, The Doctor and Rose heard the screaming. "That's more like it!" He cried.

Sneed and Gwyneth entered via a side door. "There she is!" The servant girl cried. The spirit was circling the room like a snake, still streaming from the woman's mouth. The tongues of the gas seemed to be desperately trying to form a human shape, before currents in the air would disturb them again.

"I can see that!" Sneed cried. "The whole world can see that!"

The Doctor and Rose, meanwhile, were pushing their way past the crowds, into the theatre.

"Fantastic." Said The Doctor, staring at the creature swarming round the hall. Only Rose looked down at the crowd, where the last of it was emerging from Peace's mouth. The woman promptly collapsed to the floor.

The Doctor had run up to the stage, where the performer was trying to reassure the crowds that this was all a lantern show. Someone's idea of a joke.

"Did you see where it came from?" The Doctor asked.

"Ah, the wag reveals himself, does he?" Dickens snarled. "I trust you're satisfied!"

"It came from her!" Rose shouted. She pointed, only to see Gwyneth and Sneed carrying the woman out between them. "Oy!" She shouted. "I'll get them!"

"Be careful!" The Doctor replied. He hauled himself on stage to get a better look at the creature. "Did it say anything? Can it speak? I'm The Doctor, by the way."

"Doctor?" Said Charles. "You look more like a nanny to me."

The Doctor frowned. "What's wrong with this jumper?"

* * *

"What're you doing!" Rose shouted, running up to the undertakers as they stuffed the woman in the back of the hearse.

"Don't worry yourself miss. The master and I are dealing with it." Gwyneth said, blocking her from view. "The fact is, this woman's been taken ill with a brain fever, miss. We have to get her to the infirmary."

Rose shoved the Welshwoman aside and had a closer look. The old woman's face was pale and grey, feeling for a pulse, Rose found the skin stone cold. "She's dead! What have you done to her?"

Sneed had snuck up behind her and clamped a chloroform soaked rag across her face. A few seconds of struggling and Rose fell to the ground.

"What did you do that for?" Gwyneth cried.

"She's seen too much. We'll have to take her with us. Help me get her in the back."


	2. The Walking Dead

**Chapter 2: The Walking Dead**

The spirit continued to spiral round the room, in ever increasing arcs. Most of the crowd had fled by this point, any who remained were huddled behind whatever cover they could find.

Just then, the head of the spirit veered wildly to the left, where it began to funnel into a gas lamp.

"Of course!" The Doctor gasped. "Gas!"

* * *

He ran outside to find his companion. The fleeing audience were fanning out in all directions, their screams echoing through the streets. The disturbance had got the attention of the peelers and police whistles sounded here and there. The Doctor peered round for signs of Rose, or the people with the old woman. Behind him, Dickens was still demanding to know what was going on, but The Doctor ignored him.

Finally, he saw her, being stuffed into the back of the hearse. "Rose!" He shouted, and tried to run after her, but got knocked back by a small crowd running across his path. By the time they'd passed, the carriage had set off.

"Is it some kind of projection? Blue light on glass. Perhaps a volume of vapour, guided by hot currents?" Dickens demanded.

"Yeah, not now." Said The Doctor. He cast around briefly until he could find a coach parked not far away. "You there!" He shouted. "Follow that hearse!"

"You can't do that!" Shouted Charles.

"And why not?"

"I'll tell you why not. Because this is my coach!"

"Well get in then." Said The Doctor, pulling the writer in with him. "Go!" He shouted to the driver.

The driver shrugged and set off. Meanwhile, the carriage's owner was looking indignant. "Now this is most outrageous!"

"Everything alright, Mr Dickens?" Said the driver.

"Wait. Did he say Mr Dickens?" The Doctor momentarily forgot about Rose.

"Yes. Now I must make it clear, I enjoy a jolly jape as much as the next man but..."

"Charles Dickens!" The Doctor interrupted. "The writer? _Oliver Twist. David Copperfield_. You're brilliant you are!"

"Oh.. well..." Charles stammered, not really how to respond to this situation

"Do you want me to get rid of him for you, Mr. Dickens?

I loved that one with the ghosts. What's it called?"

"_A Christmas Carol._"

"No, the one with the trains... _The Signalman_, that's it! One of the best short stories ever written I'm your number 1 fan."

. "In what way do you resemble a means of keeping oneself cool?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. Apparently, the TARDIS translation had some weak points. "No, it means, er, fanatic, enthusiast. Mind you, that American bit in _Martain Chiselwick._ What's that about? Is that just padding or what?"

"I thought you said you were my fan?"

"Well, if you can't take a bit of criticism. Go on, do the, it cracks me up!" Just then, he remembered why he was in the coach and turned to the driver. "No, forget that. Driver, faster!"

"Who is it you're chasing?" Said Charles.

"Dunno, but they've got my friend. My fault. She's only 19. I'm supposed to be taking care of her."

Something stirred inside Charles. An opportunity for excitement. A break from these endless readings. "What are we wasting our time talking about dry old books," he declared, "this is much more important. Driver, Be swift! The chase is on!

The Doctor grinned "Ata boy Charlie!"

"Nobody calls me Charlie."

"The ladies do."

"And how would you know that?"

"I told you, I'm your..."

"Number 1 fan." Charles rolled his eyes.

* * *

"But what are we going to do with her? She'll wake up eventually." Said Gwyneth, as they lay Rose down on one of the tables in the memorial room.

"I don't know. I didn't plan any of this, did I?" Said Sneed. "It's hardly my fault if the dead won't stay dead."

"Then whose fault is it sir?" She pleaded. "Why is this happening to us?"

"I don't know." He said, as he as he wandered into the hallway. He thought for a moment. "I did the bishop a favour once. Made his nephew look like a cherub, even though he'd been a fortnight in the wier. Perhaps he'll do an exorcism on the cheap." He was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Say we're not in,. Tell them we're closed. Just, get rid of them." He said.

Gwyneth nodded and went to open the door. She was startled to find Charles Dickens stood there, but hurriedly composed herself. "I'm sorry we're closed."

"Nonsense." Said Dickens. "Undertakers do not keep office hours. Scince when did the dead die on schedule?"

"I'm afraid he's not in." Said Gwyneth and tried to shut the door, but Charles forced it back open.

"Don't lie to me child." He said stiffly "Now go and get him."

"I'm awfully sorry Mr Dickens but..." She stammered, but The Doctor interrupted her.

"Something wrong with your gas?" Said The Doctor

A gas lamp on the wall was hissing. But it was not the regular high pitched hiss one would expect from a gas lamp, but a fluctuating babble, which almost sounded like a million distant voices.

"What the Shakespeare is going on?" Said Dickens.

* * *

Rose gradually pushed herself upright. Chloroform was certainly less painful that a blow to the head, but it left a very unpleasant taste in the mouth.

She looked around the room. It had the unpleasant stench of death about it, which she attributed to the coffins on the walls. She'd heard about body snatchers and she knew that some had decided to cut out the middle man and simply murder their victims, but she reassured herself that if that was her captors' intentions, she should be dead already.

Her train of thought was cut off by a creaking sound. She spun around to see Redpath grasping the sides of the coffin Sneed had put him in and hauling himself upwards. The last few wisps of gas were fading around his face. The man stared at her through cold, white eyes.

"You're joking, aren't you?" Said Rose, though she held out little hope.

Redpath responded by smashing the side of his coffin out. He staggered to his feet, letting off a low and hideous moan.

Rose ran to the door, but found it locked. She hammered on it screaming for help.

* * *

The Doctor had his ear to the wall. Gwyneth stood behind him. Her orders were to get rid of the visitors, but The Doctor seemed like the type who could help them.

"There's something living in these walls." He was saying. "No. Not the walls, the gas pipes!"

At this point, Rose's screams echoed down the corridor. The doctor ran towards them.

* * *

Rose turned to face the advancing corpse, now joined by Mrs Peace. _Remove the head of destroy the brain._ She thought. Hurriedly, she grabbed a vase and brought it crashing down on Redpath's head. She saw his skull cave in slightly. But the man kept coming, not even breaking stride. Rose had to dodge his grasp as she ran back to the door to hammer some more. She was cut off as the creatures grabbed her round the head.

The Doctor raced through the hallways, shoving Sneed aside as he tried to object. Finally, he found the right door and soniced it open. Inside, Rose was struggling furiously with two corpses.

"I think this is my dance." The Doctor declared, shouldering the larger zombie aside. He grabbed Rose and pulled her to the doorway, where Charles was staring at the corpses eyes.

"They must be under some sort of mesmeric influence!" He said.

"They're not, the dead are walking."

"Who's your friend?" Said Rose.

"Charles Dickens."

"Ok."

The Doctor turned to Redpath and Peace. "I'm The Doctor and I can help you. Tell me who you are."

"Failing." The creature that inhabited Redpath wailed. It spoke with the man's voice, but several more were echoing from within. "These bodies cannot sustain us for long. Help us." The two bodies rolled their heads back and screamed once more. The spirits erupted from their mouths and disappeared into the gas lamps.

* * *

Gwyneth was preparing tea to calm everyone's nerves. Not that it would affect Rose much at present. "First, you drugged me!" She shouted. "Then you throw me in the back of your cart! And don't think I didn't feel you hands having a little wander. Then you lock me in a room with two zombies! And, as if that's not enough, you just swan off and leave me to die! So go on! Talk!"

"It's not my fault, it's this house!" Sneed roared. "They always said it was haunted. I never had much bother 'till a couple of months ago, when the stiffs... Sorry, I mean... Dearly departed, started getting restless.

"Tommyrot." Muttered Dickens

"You saw it sir. And it's the queerest thing, but they hang onto scraps. One fellow, he walked into his own memorial service. Just like the old lady at your performance, just as she planned."

"Morbid fancy." Charles growled.

"Oh come on Charles," cried the Doctor, "you were there! You saw it."

"I saw nothing but an illusion."

"If you're going to deny it, don't waste my time, just shut up." He turned back to Sneed. "What about the gas?"

Sneed shrugged. "The gas is new. I've not seen anything like that before."

"Then it means the rift is getting wider. Stuff's bleeding through."

"What's the rift?" Said Rose.

"A week point in time and space. A connection between this place and another. That's the cause of ghost stories, most of the time."

"That was how we got the house so cheap!" Sneed declared. "Stories, going back generations. Echoes in the dark. Strange songs in the air. The feeling like a shadow passing over your soul. Truth be told, it's good for business." He smiled. " It's just what people expect from a gloomy old trade like mine."

Gwyneth handed The Doctor some tea. "Two sugars sir. Just how you like it."

The Doctor was cut off from asking how she knew this by the sound of the door swinging shut. Dickens had left the sitting room.

* * *

Charles brought his ear close to a gas lamp. The babble of voices echoed from within. "Poppycock." He muttered.

He strode over to the coffin Redpath had been placed in. The body lay there, stone cold. Stinking of death. Charles pressed on the chest and the arms. They were solid, so this couldn't be a costume. He felt all around the coffin, but still found nothing.

"Looking for strings?" Said The Doctor.

"Wires. Some kind of mechanism to this fraud."

"Oh come on Charles. Alright, I shouldn't have told you to shut up. I'm sorry. But you've got one of the best minds in the world. You saw those gas creatures."

"I cannot accept that."

"And, what does the human body do when it decomposes? It produces gas. Perfect for these gas creatures to slip inside and use it for a vehicle. Like your driver and his coach."

"Stop it!" Said Charles. "Can it be that I have the world completely wrong?"

"Not wrong. There's just more to learn."

"I've always railed against the fantasist. Oh, I love an illusion as much as the next. But that's what they were. Illusions. The real world, is something else. I dedicated myself to fighting the great injustice. The great social causes. I hoped that I was a force for good. Now you tell me the real world is one of spectre. Of... jackolanterns. In which case... Have I wasted my brief spell here, Doctor. Has it all been for nothing?"

The Doctor had no response. Many go out of their way to deny the evidence of their own eyes, simply out of stubbornness. But at the same time, it is genuinely difficult to believe in something which overturns everything you have ever been taught.

* * *

Gwyneth had returned to the kitchen to wash the tea set. A difficult task, but not without its rewards. If anyone left any food or drink, it was hers for the taking.

Having washed the first mug and put it on a rack to dry, she turned back to the sink, only to find that miss Tyler had joined her there.

"You shouldn't be doing that miss. It's not right." Gwyneth said

"Don't be daft. Sneed works you to death."

Gwyneth shrugged and resumed cleaning.

"How much do you get paid?" Rose enquired.

"8 pound a year miss."

"How much?"

"I know, I would have happy with six."

Rose rolled that thought round in her mind. She knew a pound was worth much more in 1869, but she still found it hard to imagine surviving off less than a pound a month. But then Gwyneth seemed to think it a lot. "So, did you even go to school or what?"

"Of course. What do you think I am, an urchin? I went every Sunday, good and proper."

"Once a week?"

"Aye. We did sums and everything." Gwyneth leaned in a bit closer. "Truth be told, I hated every minute of it."

"Me too." Rose grinned. Somehow, it was always the servants she could relate best to. No matter what cultural differences, they were in the same rung of society as her.

"Don't tell anyone. But one week, I didn't go and went round the heath all on my own." Gwyneth giggled.

"Oh, I used to do that." Said Rose. Me and my mate Cherese used to go round the shops, looking at boys."

Gwyneth's face fell and she returned to the sink. "Well, I wouldn't know much about that miss." In fact she did have some experience in that field, but she'd buried that in her past. To this day, only her and a friend who worked in the orphanage knew about... that incident. For the large part, she'd kept her distance since.

"Go on." Rose encouraged. "Times haven't changed that much. I bet you've got your eye on someone. You can tell me."

Gwyneth softened again. She supposed there was no harm in telling Rose about a different part of her personal life. "Well, there is one lad. Butchers boy. Comes round every Tuesday." She got a wistful look. "He has such a lovely smile."

"Ah, I like that." Said Rose. "Lovely smile. Good shoes. Nice bum."

Gwyneth blinked in surprise. "I have never heard the like."

"Why not ask him out." Said Rose. "Make him some tea, that's a start."

"I find it so hard to understand you. You've got all the clothes and the breeding, and yet you talk like some kind of wild thing."

"Maybe that's a good thing. You need a bit more in your life than just Mr Sneed."

"Oh, well that's not fair miss. It was very kind of him to take me in. I lost my parents to the flu when I was 12."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"I'll be with them again one day. Up there in paradise. They're waiting for me. Perhaps your dad's waiting for you miss."

"Wait a minute. How did you know he was dead?"

Gwyneth suddenly became very interested in the cups. "Must've been The Doctor. You've been thinking about him lately more than ever."

It was true, she had. But she kept telling herself it was foolish to consider what she was considering. Nonetheless, she had a more pressing problem. "How do you know all this?"

"Mr Sneed says I think too much." Gwyneth said vaguely. "I'm all alone here. I bet you've got dozens of servants where you come from."

"No, no servants there."

"And you've come so far."

"What makes you say so?"

"You're from London. I've seen London before in pictures, but never like that. All those people, rushing about... Half naked. For shame." The servant girl had suddenly lost all of her kind awkwardness. She stared coldly at Rose, speaking in hushed tones. "The noise. All those metal boxes, rushing past. And the birds... No, they're metal too. Metal birds, with people in them. People flying. And you, you've flown further than any of them. The things you've seen. The darkness. The big bad wolf. No, you haven't seen it yet. But it's coming. And it's so terrible."

* * *

**Author's notes: If Gwen Cooper is descended from Gwyneth (as is implied later) we can presume she has some kind of child out there.**


	3. Spirits of Christmas Past

**Chapter 3: Spirits of Christmas Past:**

Gwyneth shook herself off and backed, whimpering, into a corner. "I'm sorry miss. My mother said I had the sight. She told me to hide it."

"But its getting stronger." Said The Doctor, who chose this moment to walk in.

Gwyneth nodded. "I keep hearing voices in my head. Every night, before I go to sleep."

"You've grown up on the rift, you're part of it. You're the key."

"I tried to make sense of it sir. I consulted with spiritualists, table rappers, the lot."

"Well that should help. You can show us what to do then."

"Pardon me sir?"

The Doctor smiled. "We're going to have a seance.

* * *

The group had gathered round the sitting room table, holding hands.

"This is how Madam Ortloch summons creatures from the land of mists." Gwyneth was explaining. "We must all join hands."

Charles rolled his eyes in frustration. This was just getting ridiculous now. As Gwyneth and Rose held out a hand each for him to take. He stood up from the table, deciding that this whole experience was a waste of valuable time for him. "I'll have no part in this."

"Humbug." The Doctor teased. "Come on, open mind."

"This is precisely the sort of trickery I seek to unmask." Dickens said, but took his place in the ring nonetheless. "Seances are no more than an illusion, conjured from a luminous tambourine and a snuffbox concealed between the knees."

"Don't antagonise the girl." Said The Doctor. "I love a happy medium, me."

"I cannot believe you just said that." Said Rose.

Gwyneth turned her face to the ceiling. "Speak to us." She said. "Spirits. Are you there? Come. Speak to us that we may relieve your burden."

That same babble of voices echoed through the room. Much louder and clearer than before.

"Nothing can happen." Said Charles. "This is sheer folly."

"But look at her!" Said Rose.

Dickens looked. The maid was gasping for breath and clenching every muscle in her body from the sheer energy running through her.

"I can feel them." She gasped. "I can see them."

From every lantern in the room, gasses came streaming out, spreading out round the ceiling and down the walls. The voices could be heard bubbling from within.

"What's it saying?" Said Rose.

"It can't get through the rift." The Doctor replied. "Gwyneth, focus. Let it through."

"I can't." She winced.

"Just believe. I have faith in you Gwyneth. Make the link."

A look of agony crossed Gwyneth's face as she made one final effort. But abruptly, the pain stopped. Her eyes lost focus. Her head and body relaxed and she swayed side to side, as though suspended in some invisible liquid.

Above her, the gas now gained some focus and gathered into three unmistakably human shapes. They hovered, shimmering, over the group.

"Great God!" Sneed gasped. "Spirits from the other side!"

"Other side of the universe." Said The Doctor.

"Pity us." Said the leading spirit, in a child like voice. "Pity the Gelth. There is so little time. Help us."

"What do you want us to do?" The Doctor asked.

"The rift. Take the girl to the rift. Make the bridge." It said.

Rose glanced at Gwyneth, who was speaking in time with the spirit.

"What for?" Said The Doctor.

"We are so few in number. The last of our kind face extinction."

"Why? What happened."

"Once, we had a physical form like you. Then the war came."

Dickens had been staring in awe up to this point. Now he finally gained the presence of mind to speak. "War? What war?"

"The time war." Said the Gelth. Rose saw The Doctor looking guiltily at the floor. "Many were lost. The time war raged. Invisible to smaller species but devastating to higher forms. Our bodies wasted away. We're trapped, in this gaseous state."

"So that's why you need the corpses." Said The Doctor.

"We want to stand tall. To feel the sunlight. To live again. Your dead lie abandoned. They fall to waste. We ask that you give them to us."

"But we can't." Cried Rose.

"Why not?" Said The Doctor.

"Because it... It's not..."

"Not decent? Not polite? It could save their lives."

"Open the rift. Let us through." The Gelth cried. "Time is short. Help us. Pity the Gelth."

The strength Gwyneth was using to keep the link open finally gave out and she collapsed onto the table. The Gelth dispersed, screaming. The whole mass of gas was swiftly drawn back into the lamps.

Charles was white as a ghost, or at least as white as he'd thought a ghost would look. "It's all true." He said shakily. "All of it."

* * *

Rose revived Gwyneth with a damp rag, keeping a large mug of tea on hand to console her. Dickens, meanwhile, was consoling himself with a large glass of brandy.

"My angels miss." Was the first thing the maid said as she came to. "They came. They need me."

"Yes, they did come." Said The Doctor. "They need you to open the rift."

"I told you." Rose said stiffly. "Leave her alone. The poor girl's exhausted. She's not fighting your battles for you." She turned back to the girl and handed her the tea.

"So tell me again." Said Sneed. "What are these "Gelth?""

"Aliens." Said The Doctor.

"What from abroad?"

"Something like that. From up there."  
"Brecken, you mean?"

"Close enough. They've been trying to get through from Brecken to Cardiff but the road's blocked. So they need someone to open it up again."

"Which is why they need the girl." Said Dickens.

"They can't have her!" Rose shouted.

"But she can help. she can open up the rift. Let them through." The Doctor replied. It frustrated Rose how impersonal he was being about this. She suspected his continued guilt over the time war may be affecting him somewhat.

"Incredible." Dickens muttered. "Ghosts that are not ghosts, but beings from another world that can only exist here by inhabiting cadavers."

"Good summary."

Rose had stood up to confront The Doctor. "You can't let them run around inside of dead people!"

"Why not? It's like recycling."

"Seriously though you can't."

"Seriously though I can."

"But it's just... wrong. Those bodies were living people. We should respect them. Even in death!"

"Do you carry a downer card?" The Doctor asked.

"Well yes, but that's different."

"Yeah, it is different. Different morality. Get used to it, or go home." His companion seemed hurt by that comment, so he adopted a softer approach. "Look. You heard what they said. Time is short. I can't worry about a few corpses when a whole race could be in danger."

"I don't care, they're not using her."

"Don't I get a say miss." Said Gwyneth.

"Look... you don't understand what's going on."

Gwyneth smiled. "You would say that miss. That much is clear inside your head, that you think I'm stupid."

"That's not fair!" Said Rose. True, she may be uneducated. But she'd gone to great efforts to remind herself that it was a different education standard at the time.

"But it's true miss. Things might be very different where you're from. But here and now, I know my own mind. And the angels need me. Doctor, what do I need to do?"

"You don't have to do anything." Said The Doctor.

"They've been singing to me since I was a child. Sent by my Mum on a holy mission. So tell me. What do I need to do?"

"We need to find the rift. This house is built on a weak point. So there must be a point where it's weakest. Mr Sneed, where have most of the ghosts been seen?"

Sneed thought for a moment. "That would be, the morgue."

Rose supposed it was too much to hope for that he'd say gazibo.

* * *

The morgue was cold, dark and forbidding. Lined with bare stone since the room was never intended to be cheery. Around the room, a dozen or so corpses lay on slabs.

"The thing is Doctor. I know the Gelth don't succeed. I know for a fact that corpses weren't walking around in 1969."

"Time is in flux." Said The Doctor. "Your cosy little world could be gone in the blink of an eye. Nothing is safe, remember that. Nothing."

"Doctor." Said Charles. "I think the room is getting colder."

The others felt it too. The babble of voices rose from the pipes once more, followed by streams of gas, twirling through the air, the gasses formed a new human shape below an archway.

"Praise The Doctor, praise him." The Gelth declared.

"Promise you won't hurt her!" Rose shouted.

"Hurry, please, so little time. Pity the Gelth."

The Doctor stepped up to the spirit. "I'll take you somewhere else after the transfer. Somewhere you can build new bodies. This isn't a permanent solution."

"My angels!" Said Gwyneth, staring entranced. "I can help them live."

"Where's the weak point?" Said The Doctor.

"Here, beneath the arch." The Gelth responded.

Gwyneth strolled over to it and stood beneath its gaseous skirts.

"You don't have to do this." Rose tried talking with the Welshwoman one more time, before a sudden flash drove her back.

"Reach into the void and let us through." Cried the spirit.

"Yes." Said Gwyneth. "I can see you. I can see all of you."

"Establishing."

"Come to me. Come to this world, poor lost souls."

"It is begun, the breach is made."

Gwyneth's head rolled back and a gas creature came pouring from her mouth. Followed by another, then another, until they seemed to form a continuous stream.

"Rather a lot of them aren't there?" Said Dickens.

The Gelth Gwyneth stood beneath began to warp and change, its features becoming more demonic. The blue gas faded to red. "Gelth will come through in force." It growled in a voice much deeper and more sinister than the child-like voice it had used before.

"You said that you were few in number!" Charles shouted.

"A few million. And all of us in need of corpses."

As hundreds of ghosts spiralled around the room, some of them peeled off and settled on the bodies, which now rose from their slabs and advanced on the group.

"Stop this." Sneed ordered. "Gwyneth, listen to me. stop this and have nothing more to do with these Gelth."

"Mr Sneed!" Rose shouted. But too late. A corpse approached him from behind and snapped his neck with one swift move. One of the spirits poured itself down his throat. His eyes went blank and he joined the deceased, advancing on the others.

They ran for the door, but found their way blocked by Redpath and Peace, returning from upstairs. There was no way out.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Merry Christmas everybody!**


	4. The End of it All

**Chapter 4: The End of it All**

"I have joined the legions of the dead!" The creature inhabiting Sneed bellowed. "Join us. We need bodies. Dead. All of you, dead!"

"I think it may have gone a bit wrong." Said The Doctor, as they backed away from the creatures. "Gwyneth, stop them! Send them back!"

But Gwyneth gave no response. In fact there was no sign of any awareness on her face. For all intents and purposes, the maid had become a statue. Or a fountain, spraying out Gelth.

"Take their bodies." Said a woman's corpse "Make them vessels for the Gelth."

As soon as the spirits had begun to appear, Dickens had backed away, into the wall. As the cadavers advanced on The Doctor and Rose, by pure chance they'd failed to notice him. Now he was between them and the door, looking helplessly at them as the Gelth closed in. "Doctor!" He shouted. "I'm sorry! This new world of yours. It's too much for me! I'm so sorry!" And with that. He fled the room.

The Gelth paid him no heed and made no attempt to pursue him. He would be brought down in time. His whole race would. There was nothing they could do to stop them.

"Surrender your lives." The corpses chanted together, as they herded The Doctor and Rose deeper and deeper into the crypt.

The Doctor looked hurriedly around for some escape. All he could see was a locked iron gate at the far end of the room. He soniced it open and the two of them rushed inside, locking it behind them. His hearts sank further as he looked around the space they'd locked themselves in. The whole space was about two metres along each side, and with no exits besides the iron gate. The gate the Gelth were now closing in on.

"I trusted you!" He shouted at them. "I pitied you!"

"We don't need your pity!" Bellowed Sneed's body. "Only your flesh and the flesh of this entire planet!" The corpses smashed themselves against the bars. The rusty screws holding the hinges in place stretched alarmingly.

* * *

Dickens raced through the hallways. In the corner of his eye, he saw spirits beginning to rise up from the gas lamps, stronger than ever before. He tried not to look. He wanted nothing more than to escape this madness and get back to a world in which he'd felt secure.

Finally, he reached the front door. He flung himself through and slammed it behind him.

The writer lay against the door panting for breath. His respite, however, was quickly cut off by the sight of gas seeping from every crack around the door. The gas spiralled through the air, tongues gliding over his body as it passed. Finally it began to formed together into a hideous face, screaming at him. The writer ran all the harder.

* * *

"But I can't die!" Rose cried. "I haven't even been born yet. It's impossible for me to die." She turned desperately to The Doctor. "Isn't it? Tell me I can't die!"

The Doctor was sombre. He knew that his companion was clutching at straws. "Time isn't a straight line, it can twist into any shape. You can be born in the 20th century and die in the 19th. And it's all my fault. I brought you here."

"It's not your fault." She sighed. "I wanted to come."

"What about me?" Said The Doctor. "I saw the fall of Troy. World war 5. I pushed boxes at the Boston Tea Party. Now I'm gonna' die in a dungeon... In Cardif!"

"It's not just dying." Said Rose. "You become one of them."

The Gelth slammed against the grate once more, the weakest of the three screws holding the upper hinge sheered through, pinging onto the floor.

* * *

Dickens ran across the street and towards the corner. The Gelth circled him like a vulture. Charles wondered if running to the ends of the Earth would be far enough to escape this nightmare.

Just then, he heard a shriek of genuine alarm from the spirit. "Failing." It wailed. "Atmosphere hostile." The creature was abruptly drawn into a gas lamp by the roadside.

"Of course!" Dickens declared. "Gas!"

He ran back towards the house. His pace faster than ever, no that he had a purpose. He had friends to save.

As soon as he reached the front door, the spirits swarmed around him. They couldn't hurt him but they circled menacingly. Dickens ignored them. Instead, he ran to the nearest gas lamp. He shut off the fuel, extinguishing the flame, then turned the tap up to maximum. The spirits circling him promptly lost focus and veered off randomly, before abruptly being drawn into the lamp.

As gas began to fill up the room, Dickens covered his mouth with his jacket and ran up to the next lamp, extinguishing the flame and cranking up the gas once more. Another mass of spirits were drawn from the room.

He continued towards the morgue, doing the same with each lamp he passed.

* * *

The corpses slammed once more on the gate. The screws on the hinges were practically made of rust and The Doctor could see that another couple of shoves would sheer them off completely, bringing the door down.

"We'll go down fighting right?" Said Rose.

"Right." Said The Doctor, grasping her hand. "I'm so glad I met you."

"Doctor!" Shouted Dickens, racing into the room and fiddling with the nearest lamp. "Extinguish the flame! Turn up the gas!"

"What are you doing?" The Doctor asked.

"These creatures are gaseous!" Charles cried. "Fill the air with it. Am I right Doctor?"

"Of course, gas!" The Doctor gasped.

"What so we can choke to death instead?" Said Rose.

"Fill the room with gas, we can suck them out of the host. Like poison from a wound."

The Gelth, it seems, got wind of what Dickens was doing and turned to advance on him.

"Ah." He said. "I do hope that this theory is validated soon. If not immediately." He backed away. It had worked well enough on the ghosts but he wasn't sure if the gas would be strong enough to draw them from within a body.

"Plenty more!" Cried The Doctor. he ripped a pipe off the wall and gas flooded out, much quicker than before.

All around the mortuary, corpses turned their heads back and screamed as the spirits within them erupted from their mouth, to join the hundreds of others being swept helplessly round the room.

The Doctor and Rose emerged from behind the gate. "Gwyneth!" He shouted. "They're lying. They're not Angels. Send them back!"

The Welshwoman's head rocked to one side "Liars?" She said vaguely.

"If your mother and father could see you now. They'd tell you the same. They'd give you strength. Now send them back!"

"I can't breathe." Rose gasped.

"Charles. Get her out."

Charles stepped forward to help her but Rose swatted him away. "I'm not leaving her!"

"They're too strong." Said Gwyneth.

"Remember that world you saw?" Said The Doctor. "Rose's world? None of it will exist unless you send them back through the rift."

"I can't send them back." Said Gwyneth. "But I can keep them here." She pulled a box of matches from her pocket. "Leave now."

"You can't!" Rose shouted, rushing forward, but The Doctor grabbed her.

"I won't leave her while she's still in danger! Now go!"

Both Charles and Rose were becoming light headed, dark spots were appearing around the corners of their eyes. Deciding they could do no more, they ran.

The Doctor was less affected by the atmosphere. He reached for the matchbox but Gwyneth held it tightly.

"You go." He said to her. "Let me do that." But the girl didn't even twitch in response. He felt her neck, which quickly confirmed his suspicion. "Thank you." He said and followed the others out.

Very slowly, Gwyneth plucked a match from the box. Raised it and struck it across the edge. The gas that filled the room instantly lit up. The entire Gelth force was incinerated in seconds.

The Doctor had reached the doorway when the explosion struck. The shockwave carried him several metres before he tumbled into the snow. Ahead of him, Rose and Charles raised their arms over their heads as a shower of debris rained down on them.

As soon as the debris had stopped falling, Rose ran to help The Doctor up. "She didn't make it?" She said.

"I'm sorry Rose. She closed the rift." The Doctor replied.

"At such a cost." Said Charles, starring at the fires still burning in the building.

"I tried to save her." Said The Doctor. "I really did. But she was already dead. She had been for at least five minutes."

"What do you mean?" Said Rose.

"I think she died the moment she stood in that archway."

"But she can't have. She spoke to us. She saved us. How could she have been dead."

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Said Charles. "Even for you, Doctor."

The three of them stared back at the fire, blazing the remainder of the building. No doubt the authorities would blame three deaths on a gas explosion. And they'd be partially right.

"She saved the world." Said Rose. "The servant girl. And no-one will ever know."

* * *

The Doctor pushed open the front of his TARDIS. "Righto, Charlie boy. I've just got to go in my... shed."

"What're you gona' do now?" Rose asked the writer.

"I shall take a mail train to London. Quite literally, post haste. This is no time to be alone. I shall spend Christmas with my family. Make it up to them. After what you have shown me tonight, there can be nothing more important." Dickens declared.

The Doctor grinned. "You've cheered up."

"Exceedingly! This morning, I thought I knew everything in the world. Now I know, I've just started. All these huge and wonderful notions. I'm inspired. I must write about them."

"Do you think that's wise?" Rose said uncertainly.

"I shall be subtle at first. _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_ still lacks an ending. Perhaps the killer was not the boy's uncle. Perhaps it was not of this world." He smiled at the idea. "_The Mystery of Edwin Drood and the Blue Elementals._ I can spread the word. Tell the truth!"

"Good luck with it." The Doctor said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you. Fantastic."

"Bye then." Rose said, kissing the startled man's cheek. "And thanks."

Charles watched as the two of them made their way into the strange blue box. "Thank you. But... I don't understand. In what way is this goodbye? Where are you going?"

"You'll see. In the shed." The Doctor replied.

"Doctor, it's one riddle after another with you. But amidst all these revelations, there's one mystery you still haven't explained. Answer me this: Who are you?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Just a friend. Passing through."

"But you have such knowledge of future times. I must ask you... My books, Doctor, do they last?"

"Oh yes! Forever!"

Dickens could barely contain his delight.

"Come on Rose. Shed." The Doctor said.

"In the box?" He said. "Both of you?"

The Doctor gave one last look back. "Down boy. You'll see in a minute." He closed the door behind them.

"Doesn't that change history if he starts writing about blue ghosts?" Said Rose.

"In a week's time, its 1870, and that's the year he dies. Sorry. he'll never get to finish his book."

"Oh no." Said Rose, gazing at Charles on the TARDIS scanner. "He was so nice."

"In your time, he was already dead. We've brought him back to life. And look at him. More alive than ever. Let's give him one last surprise." The Doctor turned some dials and the engines roared into life.

Dickens heard sounds like he wouldn't have believed a few hours ago echoing from the box. The light on the top blared out and the box began to fade. Vanishing a bit more with each roar of the engines, before finally vanishing completely. He could never understand what he'd just seen but that now seemed like a wonderful thing. It was a new unexplored chapter in life's great mystery.

The streets of Cardiff, when he'd first arrived, had seemed dull and ordinary, like every street in every city he'd walked. Full of cobbles and mortar, and carriages and other things he'd seen a million times before. Now, those same streets yielded whole worlds of possibilities. The people were all in the midst of their own lives, with countless stories to tell. Each building may contain endless mysteries, hiding mere feet from an oblivious public. Looking to the stars, he felt he could see a million worlds and a billion races, each unimaginably different from our own. The world he could see was just a fraction of the never-ending story of life, the universe and everything.

"Merry Christmas sir!" Called a passer-by.

"Yes Merry Chrismas!" Dickens declared. "God bless us, each and every one!"

**Coming Next: Aliens of London/World War 3**


End file.
